The King’s Priestess

Chapter4

What was wrong with me? The book, yes maybe. Reading it has led me to almost doing what it was I almost did. My mind still replayed it, the way my thoughts didn’t feel like mine when I was turning those pages. That book felt alive, whispering to me even when it was shut.

I couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Uhm… I should go fix something for her to eat,” I said quickly, my voice shaky, looking everywhere else except at his face. My eyes darted to the cracked wall, to the chair with its broken leg, to the window where the curtains barely hung on. Anywhere but him.

“Oh… Yeah, I understand,” he said, his voice low and deep, carrying something I couldn’t name. Then he paused, almost as if he’d just remembered something. “s**t! I almost forgot,” he said, bending toward the corner of the room.

I frowned, confused, watching him fetch a bag I hadn’t noticed before. My chest still rose and fell faster than it should have. The panic attack hadn’t fully left me.

“I got you this… Uhm… food,” he said shyly, like a boy caught doing something he shouldn’t.

He handed me the bag. I stared at it for a moment, blinking. My fingers brushed against the plastic, and inside I could feel the warm weight of meals, wrapped up and full. It was a lot of food.

I swallowed hard. I needed it more than ever, but my first instinct wasn’t relief…it was shame. How did he know? How much had he seen? The memory of the bearded man yelling earlier burned me. My throat tightened. Did I come off as too poor, too desperate, like I couldn’t afford food on my own?

He probably saw everything. The fight. The trembling. My bare self, stripped of dignity.

And it was worse now that we knew each other. I was suddenly sad he had met me again after so long…this way, in this state. Was this what I looked like through his eyes? Fragile. Broken. A girl who couldn’t even feed her grandmother.

“Uhm… thanks. You… you didn’t have to,” I said reluctantly, the words heavy on my tongue. “I… I don’t know what to say…”

“Nothing. You don’t have to say anything.”

I looked up then, finally, and met his eyes. He gave me a small smile, his eyes twinkling like he was holding back something else, something deeper.

And against myself, I smiled a little too. Just a small tug of my lips, but it felt like it carried too much weight.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his voice gentler now. “You probably feel bad, but trust me, my mom had a lot from sales in the market. She didn’t want them wasted, so I thought I could give them to you.”

He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Uhm… not like, I thought of you… then got them.”

I tilted my head at him, studying his awkwardness.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean I didn’t think of you…” he rushed to explain, his hands rising in defense.

“Uhm… what…” I said softly, half teasing, half curious.

“No, no, I didn’t mean I think of you. I… ugh! Goodness,” he muttered, stumbling over his words. His ears flushed red.

That was it…I started to chuckle. A small sound, but real. My chest eased a little.

“It’s fine. I understand. Calm down,” I said, still smiling.

He let out a breath, his shoulders dropping, and returned my smile. For a second the air between us was lighter, almost fragile in its warmth.

“Uhm… so…” he said, scratching the back of his head. His eyes flickered…just for a moment to my lips before darting quickly back to my eyes.

“So…” I echoed, my own voice quieter, staring at him longer than I should have.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke of something that wasn't said. A silence that spoke louder than words.

“Okay, I think I should get going now,” he finally said, breaking it. His voice carried that same roughness, like he was pushing something down. “I’d see you soon, I guess…”

“Yeah…” I said, giving a soft smile that I hoped didn’t show how much I didn’t want him to leave.

He turned toward the door. My chest ached at the sight of his back moving away. The air felt thinner again.

“Hey!” I called out before I could stop myself.

He swiftly turned around, eyes sharp, waiting.

“Thank you,” I said. I meant it more than I’d meant anything in a long time.

He didn’t speak. He just nodded, his lips curving into a smile that lingered.

And then he was gone.

The door clicked softly behind him, and the silence that followed was different. Heavy. I stood there holding the bag of food, staring at the space he had filled.

Before I remembered again, it was too late. I didn’t even ask for his name. I had forgotten.

I sank down on the floor, placing the food beside me. My hands trembled. Not from hunger this time, not from fear, but from something I couldn’t name. The black book lay on the table across the room, its cover staring at me.

For a moment I contemplated throwing it away but another part of me, darker, quieter, wanted to pick it up again. Because inside those pages was a world that didn’t hurt like this one. A world where maybe boys didn’t see me broken first. A world where maybe I could be something more.

But here, in this cold room, I was just me. And he had seen me. And that was scarier than any book.